


Moving in the Dark

by joss80



Series: 2015 LJ h/c bingo prompts [5]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Episode s13e03, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 19:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5427878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joss80/pseuds/joss80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a lot more going on during Tim and Ellie's undercover op than what meets the eye. Takes place during episode 13x3 Incognito. Fulfills the fifth prompt for my LJ h/c bingo card: Rejection.<br/>"You just wanna go where your problems won't follow, baby that's okay with me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> The fic title and the quoted lyrics in the summary are from Neon Trees' song "Moving in the Dark," which is on the NCIS Benchmark album and inspired this fic. Well, the kiss between McGee and Bishop inspired the fic, and the song kind of took me down the proverbial rabbit hole :)  
> Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome, but no flames please. Read this if you're into McBishop. If not, feel free to read something else.

The moving truck hadn’t left them with much, truth be told.

The “Bathroom” and “Living Room” boxes had contained computers and other paraphernalia necessary for their covert observations in the master bedroom, and most of the furniture had been taken in through the front door and then trundled back around and dumped rather unceremoniously in the garage by the NCIS computer tech “movers.”

There were a few chairs and a table left for them. Some cooking and dining items. And a bed. _One_ bed, a queen size that had only just fit into the back bedroom upstairs. Which was awesome, considering that – on top of the obvious awkwardness – Ellie was still mad at him for letting Jake know about her surprise vacation plans.

Tim found himself standing in the doorway to said bedroom, staring at the package of bedding that lay unopened on the pillow top mattress, and considered dragging a couch out of the garage so he could sleep on it. Or maybe the floor. It was carpeted, it would be fine.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.”

Ellie joined him at the doorway and the two of them engaged in some mutual staring at the bed, as if willing it to divide itself in two.

“I could get a-”

“Tim,” she sighed, looking over at him with her eyebrows raised, “It’s only for a few nights. Unless you snore _horribly_ , I think we’ll be okay. Hmmm?”

“Okay.” And he felt something in his gut jump at his agreement.

* * * * *

They puttered around for a few hours, unpacking the dishes and utensils they had and hanging up a few items of clothing each in the bedroom closet. A quick trip to the grocery store rounded out the evening and, after a large yawn from Ellie, Tim suggested that they get to bed.

They both showered, Ellie in the master bathroom and Tim in the smaller one down the hallway. He was done first, and had just about finished setting up the bedding when Ellie found her way back to the bedroom.

He glanced up and eyed the sleep-shorts-and-tee combo that she was sporting, similar to his own only involving decidedly more pink, and breathed a sigh of relief. No lace. No satin. Fully-covered. Perfectly acceptable for their situation.

She caught him looking, and he blushed.

“Ah – just about finished up here,” he muttered, turning to fluff a pillow. “Which side do you want?”

“This side is fine,” she said with a knowing smile on her face, and he followed suit as she turned the light off and climbed under the covers.

“Goodnight, Ellie,” he half-whispered across the space between them.”

“Goodnight, Tim,” drifted back, and he felt her changing position on the bed.

It was strange being in bed with someone else, let alone a woman who wasn’t Delilah. And he could smell her, the faint waft of her soap or shampoo crowding out all other thought as it hammered the very unusual situation home again and again. He idly wondered what Jake would think about this arrangement, and then his thoughts drifted to the morning and what they would need to do as a married couple.

Sleep was a long, long time coming for Timothy McGee.

* * * * *

Sometime in the middle of the night – and who knew what time, really, because there was no bedside clock with glowing numbers to speak of in the blasted house – Tim awoke with a weight on his chest and something tickling his neck.

He opened his eyes but couldn’t see anything in the dark. And then the weight shifted, and he realized that the tickling was Ellie’s breath. 

Ellie was draped over him. Oh god he’d never live this down if Tony found out.

“Ellie. Hey, Ellie,” he called out softly but urgently, and he let his right hand caress her back in an effort to rouse her.

The shirt was smooth against his fingers, and he got a nose-full of Ellie-hair scent as she snuggled even more closely against him. He could feel her breasts pressing into his rib cage. It was terribly intimate, and something stirred deep inside him. He studiously ignored it.

“Hmmmm?” she sighed sleepily. 

“Ellie, it’s me. Tim. Not Jake. You should probably, uh, you know –”

“S’fine. I don’t like sleeping alone. You mind?” she asked, her voice more alert but still muffled against his chest.

“Uh….” he thought about it for exactly one second. “No, this is good.”

So long as he never breathed a word of it to anyone else.

* * * * *

“I did eggs over-medium _and_ scrambled,” he called out, as footsteps thunked loudly and slowly down the stairs. “Didn’t know which you’d prefer.”

She looked the part alright, as she rounded the corner in her uniform and tied-back hair. Her eyes, however, told a different, tired story. She squinted at him and stifled a yawn.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling a small smile as she let her hand drop back to her side. “I like both.”

He placed a plate of food on the kitchen island and watched as she pulled up a barstool.

“You look like you didn’t sleep too well,” he observed, as diplomatically as possible.

“Eh, it was okay I guess,” she said, as she dug into her eggs and toast. She kept her eyes down. “Thanks for, you know….” 

“Sure, anytime,” he replied quickly, and then he realized what he’d implied and he rolled his _own_ eyes at himself.

Way to go, McGee, sounding so eager and accessible.

But she didn’t seem to notice, just nodded her head as she took another bite of food.

He joined her with his own plate, and they ate the rest of their meal in relative silence.

* * * * *

Fifteen minutes later they were all done. Breakfast was cleared up, teeth were brushed, and Ellie was looking decidedly more awake.

“When do you have to head off to work?” Tim asked casually, as he straightened the front of his t-shirt. He didn’t need to, really, but he was nervous as hell.

“I have about ten minutes,” Ellie’s voice sounded out from the front hallway, where she was pulling on her boots. Tim let his feet follow her voice, and he leaned against a wall to watch her. When she stood up, the boots had given her an extra inch of height and he mentally reprimanded himself for thinking the thoughts he was suddenly thinking about her being taller. About how that change in height would change the way, the angle….

“So,” she said, with her hands stuffed in her pockets and her eyes not quite meeting his. “You want to, uh, practice?”

And that feeling in his gut was back and would not be ignored. This seemed somehow really normal and right, and very bad and an absolutely horrible idea at the same time.

“Sure.”

She took a step closer.

He pushed off of the wall and took a step closer too. She still wasn’t meeting his eyes, and her hands were clenching and unclenching at her sides.

“Look, we don’t have to –”

“No, I want to,” she interrupted him, and she did meet his eyes then and he wished she hadn’t. Everything was laid bare, insecurities and awkwardness and regret and desire….

_Shit._

She took another step forward, into his personal space, and his hands rose instinctively to cradle the back of her head. He could smell her shampoo again, and something began a slow burn in his belly.

“Ellie,” he sighed out, his tone voicing the same emotions, and then he leaned forward and brushed her lips with his.

“How was that?” he asked, pulling back slightly and knowing full well that his face had turned a lovely hue of pink.

She raised her eyebrows at him as if in challenge. “Is that how you greet your wife after a long day apart, Tim?”

“Uh… no?”

And the spark turned to flame. He pulled her face up to meet him and pressed his lips to hers, feeling the softness and taste and heat of her, and suddenly one of his arms was around her waist and pulling her closer to him.

She moved willingly, resting her own hands on his hips as their mouths pushed against each other and breathing mutually became more ragged. Tim let his tongue lick across Ellie’s bottom lip, and she opened up willingly to him, a soft moan on her breath.

And then she pulled away, pulled right away, out of his arms and turned to face the door. He could see her shoulders heaving up and down as she presumably tried to calm herself.

“Ellie…?” he called towards her.

“I… I just… I need to go.”

And then she was outside with the door closed behind her, and he stood there for several minutes, immobile, long after the hip-hop music from her car had trailed off down the road into silence.

* * * * *

Many hours later, after much messing around with the camera upstairs and a fortuitous trip across the road to meet their new _neighbor_ , the sound of loud hip-hop music once again flooded the street and reached Tim’s ears through the open bedroom window, and he jumped up and was down the stairs and out the front door in a matter of seconds. 

The _thing_ between the two of them that morning had been messing with his head all day, and he just wanted to get their planned kiss out of the way so that it wasn’t hanging over either of their heads anymore. He felt terribly awkward about the whole thing, and the lingering arousal from the morning was still pulling at the back of his mind whenever he let his brain rest for a second. 

So down the front steps he went, giving Ellie his best, most genuine smile.

“How you doin’, sweetheart?” he asked, and then his stomach fizzed into a dozen butterflies as she looked up to him and let her hand rest on his hip _just like that morning_ and he leaned down to kiss her.

It was over in a lingering second, of course, but her lips were the same warm, soft, _tempting_ as before and he averted his eyes from hers as soon as he dared. And then they did their due diligence waving across the street and making small-talk with the neighbors about burgers on the weekend before heading inside.

Outside, he asked her how her day had been.

Inside, they immediately headed upstairs and she got pissy at him for calling her sweetheart. And then she called him honey in that cold sarcastic tone that he didn’t hear often from her.

And she was obviously, terribly obviously, still mad at him. Something about that gnawed at his gut, and he wondered how he could make it right.

* * * * *

Later that night, after oven-baked lasagne, salad, and garlic bread eaten over increasingly sticky keyboards, she came out with it in about three different parts in the confusing way that women seemed to.

And finally he knew it wasn’t just about the surprise vacation plans being spoiled. And it wasn’t necessarily regret about their less-than-platonic kiss downstairs that morning. And in spite of the fact that he was, essentially, off the hook as the primary cause of her moodiness, he felt even worse.

And once again he didn’t know how to make it right.

* * * * *

Three hours later the neighbors were in bed, and so were Tim and Ellie.

She hadn’t said more than a few words about Jake, but he could tell how much the situation was bothering her. Her normal sass and perky cheer was long gone, replaced by graveness and downcast eyes.

“Hey,” he said, catching a finger under her chin and lifting her face up towards him as her head landed on the pillow next to his. “How can I help?”

He knew more than to ask if there was anything he could do to help. People always just gave a weak smile and shook their heads at that. No, this was more direct, active, _doing something_ for the uncharacteristically fragile woman beside him… someone that he cared very deeply for, deeper than he had expected.

Her eyes met his, and she gave him the weak smile but didn’t shake her head. Instead, he felt her hand slide under his on the mattress, and he wrapped his fingers around hers tightly, warmly. Her eyes fluttered closed against the pillow as he looked on, and a minute later her breathing had evened out and deepened.

He knew he was forgiven, and he found some peace in that. It was a few minutes more before he too fell asleep, fiercely guarding the small hand that had been placed in his for safekeeping.

* * * * *

Several hours later he woke again to the unfamiliar weight spread across him, to the slight tickle on his neck, and this time he kept quiet. This time he knew that Ellie was okay with it, needed it perhaps, and so he soaked in the moment instead of trying to move the two of them apart. 

He could see the appeal, really. He was toasty warm with the two of them moulded together like that, and it held some sort of mental calming magic as well. His brain automatically drifted to worrying about Ellie, and her problems with Jake, but he just couldn’t seem to get himself worked up like the previous evening. There was something in the situation that infused him with a sense of wellbeing. 

He let his hand drift to her back again, intent on stroking subtly against her shirt once more, but his fingers found bare skin instead and he froze. She didn’t move, so he let his fingers drift higher until they found the wayward fabric and he let out a sigh of relief.

And then he actually looked down towards her face and froze again.

She was looking straight at him, her blue eyes dark and shining and intense, and his mouth made fish-like movements for a second or two until he found his voice.

“How… uh, how long have you been awake for?” he asked in a whisper, half afraid of the answer.

“Since before you,” she replied quietly as her eyes finally left his, and he felt his body relax for all of three seconds before a hand snaked onto his belly and under his t-shirt.

He couldn’t hide his gasp of surprise. But he regrouped quickly, tried to mask the emotion in his voice as he questioned her, “Ellie?”

She didn’t reply, choosing instead to let her hand drift upwards along the light trail of hair towards his chest and then, after a few seconds’ pause, down along the far side of his torso until her fingers came to rest against the waistband of his boxers.

He swore he could feel every single nerve ending in his body screaming at him, screaming for more of this _touch_ from someone that he wasn’t supposed to want touch from. It was heaven and hell intertwined… and then she lifted her head and looked up at him again.

He heard himself gulp. Felt the breath pause in his lungs. Managed, somehow, another cautionary, “ _Ellie_.”

“I need….” She said, piercing eyes perplexed and still intense.

And then she tilted her chin up, just enough to brush her lips against his.

Thoughts of Delilah and of Jake and how wrong wrong _wrong_ this was strained to stay at the forefront of his mind, but as he pressed his own lips against hers he felt something finally settle inside his body. And a second later he pulled back, leaving just a fraction of space between them.

“Just for tonight, that’s all,” she whispered against his mouth. “I trust you more than almost anyone, and I need….” She trailed off.

There it was again, the simple and sinful plea that she couldn’t fully voice. And although nothing, absolutely nothing in him could justify it, there was also nothing in him that was left to say no.

He let his hand trail across the bare skin of her back once more, feeling the goose bumps rise at his touch, and then pulled her closer in answer.

She was on him in a second, sliding a leg over to straddle him as she closed the gap again between their lips. They fused together, mouths open and not the least bit shy against each other as one of his hands sought the back of her head to pull her impossibly closer, and the other slid under the shorts the covered her ass and pulled her down against him. And her hands were under his shirt again, touching and tracing and he couldn’t get enough.

There was sweet, sweet friction everywhere as their bodies rubbed against each other, as she rubbed against him, and seconds later he found both his hand pushing _pushing_ her shorts down and out of the way even as she began doing the same to his. And when they rested against each other once more, with nothing between them but the cool night air, she pulled up, panting.

“Tim, I want you.” Her breaths came in small, sharp bursts, and she was smiling - _genuinely_ smiling - for the first time in days.

He couldn’t stop the grin that stole across his own face, and he thrust up slightly against her.

“I think my feelings on the matter are very… mutual,” he teased back.

“God, such a guy thing to say and do,” she chastised him with a mock frown, but her smile was still there. 

Then she tugged at his shirt, and he managed to sit up slightly so she could pull it over his head. When it was off, and thrown clear across the room, he let his hands rest on her hips for a moment and looked up at her.

“We’re really doing this?” he asked quietly, bravado gone and emotions laid bare. Because even now, even _anytime_ , he would still go by whatever she needed.

“Please,” she whispered back.

So he raised his hands, sliding them up along the sides of her torso, revelling in the soft skin and the slight bumps of her ribcage as his fingers caught the material of her shirt and pulled up, up, up, and finally over and off. And he couldn’t help but stare at her, because she was beyond beautiful with her dishevelled hair and perfectly small breasts and kiss-swollen lips, and he reached a finger up to trace around and then over a nipple and got a soft gasp in reward. 

He felt his dick respond, pushing up against her of its own accord, and then she moaned as he flicked his finger across again several times in a row. 

“I don’t have any, well, anything,” he admitted, voice low and ragged as practicalities won out in his mind for a second.

But she just leaned forward to kiss at his bottom lip and then slid backwards, touching him with her hand for the first time as she guided him inside her.

His brain threatened to short-circuit for a second or two as she adjusted, wiggling around him and threatening to be his undoing in a decidedly premature way. He let his hand play over her nipple some more, trying to distract himself, and then he moved his other hand to the juncture between their bodies and let an exploratory finger stroke between her folds.

“Fuck!” 

Bingo.

He was back in the game, her own growing arousal helping him to hold off on his own as he stroked more, crooking his finger up slightly and letting it circle around and across her over and over again. She started moving on him, then, rising up and down just the slightest bit and suddenly _he_ was the one moaning out loud at the stimulation, at the exquisite feeling that her movements were drawing out of him.

He bit back an expletive of his own as he began thrusting upwards as much as he could, trying to match her body’s movements on top of his. And he kept his finger moving all the while, drawing increasingly lewd sounds out of her as she rode him with her eyes closed and her hair swinging rhythmically around the sides of her face.

“Fuck, Tim!” She half-yelled, breath coming in short gasps once again. “Harder, so close!”

And if hearing that didn’t jack up his arousal to breaking point, her plea for him to thrust harder was certainly going to be his undoing. And soon.

She was almost writhing on him now, grinding herself down on him and his finger as she moved, and there was nothing he could do _but_ try to meet her with as much strength as their position would allow. He was spiralling fast, and he watched as her eyes opened and met his for one brief second, her mouth rounded in a half-surprised “O”, before they slammed shut again. And then she was shaking on top of him, bucking forward and back and up and down and seeking any friction she could as she came with a silent cry. 

It was his undoing, the look on her face and the warmth clenching around him, and he pressed as far as he could into her once, twice, and then his brain _did_ short-circuit as he saw stars and went flying.

She collapsed onto him a few seconds later in a sated and supple heap, and he held her close as the last twinges of his orgasm worked their way through his body. He could feel her breath tickling at his neck again, and then she kissed his cheek and whispered a sly-sounding, “Thank you” in his ear before pushing up and off of him and heading to the bathroom. She was back quickly, a small wet towel in her hand, and he caught her hand and then her eye as she was running it over both of them to clean up.

“You okay?” he asked, and part of him also wanted to know if _he_ had been okay, but that seemed like a bit of a moot point given the immediate situation.

Her smile was both shy and coy as she looked at him, that blasted gorgeous hair of hers still swinging freely around her face. 

“Physically…,” she drawled, swirling the towel around his groin and dropping her gaze, “excellent. Mentally and emotionally…,” she continued, but her eyes met his again with something akin to defiance in them, “settled. So, yes, I’m okay.”

She threw the towel in the direction of the door and snuggled up against him once more, both of them still very naked as he pulled the covers over their bodies.

“Only a few hours until we have to get up,” Tim observed, and then he wanted to Gibbs-slap himself for making awkward small-talk. But she just snuggled in closer.

“Yup. Totally worth it though.”

And as he felt her body relax against his, winding its way back down towards sleep, he realized that he agreed completely.

* * * * *

There was no awkwardness the next morning, just a few knowing smiles exchanged between them as they got ready for the day.

She made him breakfast, he tidied up, and she monitored the camera when he headed out to trail Lauren Hudson. He’d waved goodbye from the car, and he knew she’d seen it because he got a text from her a few minutes later with a smiley face as the only message.

All hell had broken loose shortly after that, but she was safe and that’s all that mattered to him.

* * * * *

The next morning it was back to business as usual for the MCRT. He was first in, balancing his Go Bag in one hand with a huge bouquet of flowers in the other. Sunflowers, carnations, mums… and she was only a few minutes behind him and caught him trying to decide where to place the vase on her desk.

The smile she gave him was genuine. No ulterior motive, no allusions to things, just a big, warm, Bishop smile that melted his heart a bit and caused his face to light up in much the same way at seeing her happiness.

Tony had pushed for information about the flowers a few minutes later, of course, and Tim stood there by her side trying not to grin like an idiot as she told Tony the g-rated version of how he had saved her and how she was looking at things with a more balanced perspective.

He felt good. Really good. Happy, even. And he was happy for his friend. They shared a look before he headed back to his desk, one that echoed of _thank you_ again from her, and a responding _I care about you_ from him, and he got back to work. 

He knew they’d be fine. And he genuinely hoped that _she’d_ be fine with all the goings-on with Jake.

He just hoped they didn’t have to go undercover together again for a while, because that might force his heart into places he didn’t want it to have to go.


End file.
